


On Puppy

by anaiata



Category: Rigel Black Series - murkybluematter
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, Post FF13, Rigel Black Chronicles Masquerade 2021, yes beta we get to survive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28972680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaiata/pseuds/anaiata
Summary: Five conversations the twins have post-reveal.
Relationships: Fred Weasley & George Weasley
Comments: 17
Kudos: 129
Collections: Rigel Black Chronicles Masquerade 2021





	On Puppy

_i. night of_

Their beds creaked as the twins lowered themselves onto them.

They stared at each other. 

They were usually good at this—non-verbal communication. Especially when they were together. They had planned pranks with twitches of an eyebrow, exchanged arguments with a glance and the feel for a shape of an aura, mapped out excuses with the same thoughts on the same tracks, synced and parallel. 

Not there though, not then. Not with so much chaos and confusion, not with knowledge and questions that weighed so heavily in their minds.

Fred cleared his throat. It sounded like it ought to have echoed, but it dropped to the ground like ice cream from a cone, with an unsatisfying, underwhelming _splat._

“So,” one of them said numbly.

“So.”

They hadn't a clue what had happened with the ritual and the blood and Lee, but there was one thing that had been made abundantly clear.

“So, so, so.”

“Our little pureblood champion puppy turns out to be a halfblood—”

“—knowingly—”

“—and an imposter?”

A beat.

“Could he be a bastard?”

They considered this for a second.

“Mini-Riddle called him out, and we haven’t heard any rumours about Lord or Lady Black,” mused George.

Fred rubbed a hand over his face. “So let’s run with imposter.” 

“Clearly not just for the last task, then, since the duelling skills match.”

“Just for the tournament? Doesn’t seem like his style.”

“Do we really know Rigel?” George bit his lip. “Either he hired someone to take his place in the tournament and he’s been keeping that from us for a year—”

“Which doesn’t seem likely besides. The tasks were done too Rigelishly.”

“—or he’s been lying about who he is for for four.”

They swallowed. A beat of silence.

Fred laughed harshly. “We’ve summed up the situation. Congratulations, us. Four years. Maybe he was a slimy snake after all.”

“Don’t say that,” George snapped. “We don’t know for sure if that’s what happened.”

“Rigel—the imposter—ran away,” the other twin pointed out, and then sudden horror sank into his features. “He’s been trying to avoid attention for years. He acts differently around his family. That time, when he came to the Burrow with his cousin....”

“There could be any other reason! All we know for sure is that the person in the tournament was a halfblood.”

“The person in the tournament was a halfblood. Rigel was in the tournament. Ergo, Rigel is a halfblood, and not who he says he is.”

“Not convinced by the—”

“—bastard theory? Not really. Besides, I don’t think Lord Black was in on this.”

They winced at the memory of the man pounding on the wards, reaching for who he thought was his son, despair in every line of his body as Professor Lupin physically wrested him away from the spot where the imposter disappeared.

“Could... could be Diana’s bastard,” George offered weakly.

His expression softened. “Not in the Black family. I don’t think there’s another explanation, George.”

George opens his mouth as if to protest, then snaps it shut again. “Four years,” he breathed, closing his eyes briefly. Then, more resolutely: “He’s still our puppy. Doesn’t matter what his name is.”

Fred paused for a second, then cracked a smile. “Of course. Mere capital crime isn’t going to change that.”

They nodded firmly.

A brief moment of hesitation. “Do you think he’s alright? Is there anything we can do—”

“—tonight?” Fred said, already reaching for his bag. “Probably not. Tomorrow? Yes.”

They pulled out matching vials of the sleeping potion they’d made for an experiment. Neither of them would sleep soundly that night without it, not with everything that had happened. They’d get a start on any problems tomorrow.

“Bottoms up,” one of them said bleakly.

In unison, they tipped back the vials and collapsed into dreamless sleep.

  
_ii. morning after_

“You know, brother mine,” George commented as they got dressed the next morning. “I think we should think of it as a prank.”

Fred paused, halfway through buttoning his shirt. His head snapped up.

“Not a deception, or a ruse,” his twin continued fiercely. “Just a world-class prank against the blood purists, a giant fuck you to the Cow Party agenda.”

Their gazes met. Slowly, identical smiles split across their faces, with the slightest razor edge.

“You speak sense, for once, Forge. And you know what? Now that the puppy’s gone—”

“—it’s our responsibility—”

“—to continue what he started.”

  
  


_iii. breakfast_

_“Sonorus,”_ they muttered, pointing at each other’s throats. In tandem, they stepped up onto the Gryffindor table and exchanged a glance.

_You first._

Fred issued a loud, ringing clap that drew the majority of the students’ attention. It might not have worked on another day, but with only quiet murmurs and confusion and the anxious thrum of anticipation that morning, it did.

The students expected news. Too bad most of them wouldn’t be getting any.

They hadn’t planned this beyond the timing, so George improvised. “Hey, Gred, I think we have something to say,” boomed his magically amplified voice. 

At the teacher’s table, the deputy headmistress jerked to attention. Professor Snape tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned with a puzzled look, momentarily distracted.

“You know, Forge, I think we do. All of you, listen up.”

“If you know what we’re talking about—”

“—and please do think about it, we wouldn’t want you to miss out just because you’re a little slow this morning—”

“—there will be a meeting at the same place and time—”

“—tonight!”

“You won’t need your wands this time, but please—”

“—bring them anyways. You all look so jumpy. Did something happen last night, Forge?”

“I don’t know, Gred. Wasn’t there something about a tournament these days? I’d hate for something to have happened to our esteemed puppy.”

Several people flinched at that.

“Misters Weasley!” Professor Mcgonagall cried, and the twins glanced at each other.

“And that’s our cue! We’ll see you later! Now—”

“—I think I see the post owls coming! Gred, duck!”

And they stepped down just as the owls came swooping in.

  
_iv. corridor_

George emerged from the abandoned-classroom-turned-interrogation-room to find Fred waiting for him. They grinned at each other. 

Really, in these situations, thinking of things in terms of pranks was so much less depressing. 

George flicked his eyes towards the door he just exited, and quirked an eyebrow at his brother. _You saw it, right?_ The transcript pile.

Fred stuck his hands in his pockets and smirked. _Already added it to the list._

_v. ~~duelling~~_ _club_

One of the Ravenclaws crossed his arms as he spotted them enter, fashionably late from an unexpected run-in with a certain cleaner’s cat. “So?” he asked flatly.

George shrugged, striding towards the front of the room. “Classes were cancelled, so we’ve spent a lot of time thinking today—”

“—not that we wouldn’t have otherwise—”

“—and we’ve come with _ideas._ Now,” he declared, wagging a finger at the group. “We’re planning on finding Rigel, if that wasn’t obvious enough.”

“And, if we can’t,” Fred added, pacing across the low platform that had been willed into existence. “We’re going to help him anyways. So—”

“—if you don’t want to be a part of that—”

“Get out.”

There was a long silence, and a few people with doubtful expressions shifted slightly, but didn't leave.

Then Pansy Parkinson took a dignified step forwards, a hand clamped like a vice around Draco Malfoy’s wrist. “We’re his friends. We’re in.” The boy scowled heavily, but didn’t protest.

“He’s a halfblood,” someone muttered.

“He’s one of us,” the blonde girl snapped. “How many times has he saved our lives? How much has he done for us without expecting anything in return? It’s our turn now.”

“Glad we can agree on something, Parkinson,” Ron called, stepping forth as well. She curtsied mockingly.

Slowly, one by one, their fellow students either called out their support or slipped away, unmentioned, noted by the twins’ watchful gazes. 

When the room had begun to settle, they looked to each other. They smirked.

“Mum’ll kill us if she hears everything we’ve planned,” Fred commented, under his breath.

“Totally worth it.”

  
  


_\+ i. potter place_

Archie dumped a new pile of newspapers on her desk. “I need to start framing these,” he declared.

Harry looked up from her reading, “What do you have this time? I thought the Daily Prophet hadn’t arrived yet.”

“I filched the latest copy of Witch Weekly. Look at this. _The Secret Love Life of Rigel Black, what Hogwarts students say about Britain’s newest celebrity._ ” He flipped through, enjoying himself far too much. “And this opinion piece, listen: _Some say he’s a vampire, or a lost prince, and I think they’re right, but really, they entirely miss the fact that he’s Lord Riddle’s bastard son from the future._ ”

She let out an involuntary snort. “Actually?”

“Yes!” he turned to her with eyes brimming with laughter, but whatever he saw in her made his face fall. “Harry,” he said. “You know these are being planted, right?”

“Archie....”

“No, look,” he replied, fierce. “Too many of these have quotes from Hogwarts students, and too many of them say good things about the halfblood liar criminal—”

“Gee, thanks,” she muttered.

“—and listen.” He flipped back a few pages. “ _One Hogwarts student, with tears in her eyes, told us that Rigel Black was kind, and his unsung altruism undoubtedly made the school a better place for all.”_

She shifted uncomfortably.

_“‘I mean, he looks terrifying in the duelling ring, but inside, he’s really just a puppy,’ stated a pair of Gryffindor students._ Ring any bells? _A group of Slytherins came forth, expressing their support for one of theirs. ‘We recognise what he did was wrong,’ they said. ‘But we should let him be. Rigel may be a half-blood, but he’s also a genuinely good person.’_ The Hogwarts students are backing you.”

“Archie,” she repeated again, throat oddly scratchy. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“The Weasley twins—”

“Still think they’re my PR team.”

“And they’re doing a good job of it, you know,” he sighed dramatically. “There’s a book coming out next month. The Rigel Black Chronicles. Pretty good idea too, since everyone roots for the protagonist.”

“Is there?”

“I can’t believe you don’t know this stuff. Have you been looking at the newspapers at all?”

“Only at the search,” she admitted quietly. “And what you show me.” She knew Archie cherrypicked the good stories for her.

“And what does the search say?” he demanded.

“Evidence disappears. There’s so many fake stories that nobody knows what’s real anymore. People say there’s a curse on the aurors that look too carefully.” She knew what Archie would say, so hastily she added, “Just coincidences.”

“Awfully convenient ones,” he pointed out. A voice hollered from downstairs. “That’ll be the Prophet,” Archie said, already racing to the door. “Wait up. I’ll prove it to you.”

Harry watched as he disappeared, then side-eyed the stack of magazines he’d left behind. She almost reached for one, but decided against it. _Don’t be delusional._

A hysterical laugh bubbled by from the general direction of the kitchen, followed by the sound of someone thundering up the stairs and a figure in her doorway and a rolled up newspaper flying at her.

She caught it instinctively and was immediately met with an eyeful of Tom Riddle with glaring (almost blinding, really) hot pink hair.

#  **SOW PARTY LEADER HUMILIATED AT PRESS CONFERENCE**

In last night’s much anticipated press conference, Lord Riddle declared an official change in the SOW Party’s stance regarding the anti-muggleborn legislation that has been the hallmark of the party since its inception (see page 3 for more details).

However, reporters soon found themselves distracted by a rather more peculiar phenomenon. As the night progressed, the man’s hair slowly began to turn pink....


End file.
